


Wielding Only Blades of Grass

by SkewedReality



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic, Canon Era, M/M, unapologetic fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 07:32:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3520712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkewedReality/pseuds/SkewedReality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a KMM Prompt: "Arthur/Merlin - Was looking up flower meanings (it was for a reason I swear!) and found this out (dunno if it's true though): 'Grass symbolises submission and homosexuality.' Do with this what you will"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wielding Only Blades of Grass

Merlin’s voice was a monotone, speaking as he busied himself securing the straps of his pack. “I don’t understand why you are even coming.” 

“Because,” Arthur said again, speaking as though he were explaining a simple concept to a child, for the tenth time. “You have a tendency to get lost—“

“I do not—“

Arthur cut off his protest with his typical condescending expression. He waited a moment in case Merlin defied his gaze and continued with his argument anyway. Not that he could have if he had wanted to. It was easier to let Arthur think he was lost and wandering the village than running toward the danger Camelot always seemed to be in. Or worse, just shirking his servant duties. 

Though he expected that Arthur typically believed the latter. 

The prince continued with a roll of his eyes, his voice tinged with exaggerated annoyance at the interruption. “I am accompanying you—“ He spoke the words as though implying that Merlin should feel honored by his presence. “Because I do have responsibilities to attend to later, and I would like to make sure that my current servant doesn’t get lost or otherwise maimed on his way to pick flowers. Better to stick with your mediocrity than have to break in a new servant in an afternoon.”

“First of all,” Merlin finally protested hotly, narrowing his eyes and throwing a bunched up shirt toward where Arthur sat on the bed, aiming for his face. Naturally, Arthur and his smug grin managed to catch the offending article well before impact. He held it to his nose briefly before tossing it to the floor in distaste, muttering something about how Merlin had been in the castle for years and apparently hadn’t yet managed to discover its laundry facilities. “I am not ‘picking flowers.’…” He mocked Arthur’s haughty tone with accuracy, eliciting a hmph of petulance from the arrogant prince. 

Merlin allowed himself a second to enjoy the reaction before continuing. “I am gathering herbs for Gaius to use in his medicines. Or had you forgotten that I do, in fact, have a life outside of cleaning the pigpen you call your bedroom?” 

There was silence then. Not in any way charged or uncomfortable, but companionable before Arthur spoke, standing and moving to loom over Merlin’s shoulder and inspect the contents of his pack.

“Did you pack food for the trip?” 

“Of course I did. Wouldn’t want Your Highness to starve on an afternoon trip down a path in the woods,” Merlin said, rolling his eyes. The words were colored with the same fond amusement that continued even after the indignant huff Arthur let out was immediately followed by a well-aimed cuff to the back of Merlin’s head.  
He wasn’t quite able to swat the hand away before it ruffled through his already messy hair. It settled on his shoulder before Arthur spoke, leaning further over his shoulder. “You’re doing that wrong.” 

Merlin was confused for a moment, looking down at his hands to see what Arthur was talking about just in time to feel the warmth of the prince’s hands join his own over the knot he had been hurriedly tying in order to secure the gathering basket to his pack. 

Before he could protest that he was tying down a basket and not priceless antiquities, Arthur was shooing his hands out of the way to demonstrate what was, apparently, the proper basket securing knot. (Which, even if it was slightly neater, still didn’t look that different from Merlin’s original knot.)

“If everything is now to your satisfaction, sire,” Merlin challenged, eyes meeting Arthur’s to find his usual blend of haughty amusement waiting for him. “We can leave when you’re ready.” 

Arthur gave him a hard shove out the door, muttering something about respect.

\----------

In truth, Merlin could have gathered the herbs Gaius needed and been home in just a couple of hours, but with Arthur, naturally, it took considerably more time. They stopped every time Arthur spotted game tracks. He would explain what the print belonged to and usually a boastful story about how he had single-handedly defeated one such creature. Over lunch, Merlin countered with some of the knowledge he had gained during his time as a physician’s apprentice as well as stories about trekking into the forest with his mother and educating his companion about poisonous mushrooms.

By the look Arthur gave him, he would rather have been in thumbscrews. 

“How do you even know all of this?” Arthur breathed, either incredulous or just incredulously bored, Merlin suspected the latter and laughed toward the ground they were sitting on. Merlin busied his hands with packing away the leftover food from their lunch before digging deeper into his pack. He lifted his head to find Arthur sitting with his head lolling back between his shoulders, eyes directed toward the canopy of the forest.

“Gaius gives me books to read. Books on anatomy, creatures…” He trailed off, gazing up to see what Arthur was looking at and finding nothing but leaves. “I know more about the leaves on this tree than anyone would ever need to know,” he finished with a laugh before adding, “Here.” 

He tossed a thick book down by Arthur’s crossed-legs. 

“What is it?” 

“It’s called a book, Arthur.”

“Shut up. I meant what is it about?” Arthur rolled his eyes. He looked utterly disinterested, but he picked up the book. 

Merlin leaned forward and opened the book to his bookmark, the book resting open on Arthur’s lap. “It’s a book on plants. This--” He pointed to the illustration on the page. A plant with small, waxy, spoon-shaped leaves spreading down its long stem. “Is what we were after. It’s called Rue and is used for infections and making antidotes to poisons.”

Arthur hummed an acknowledgement before they lapsed into a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft turning of pages and once when Arthur stretched out his long legs to drape over Merlin’s shins, eliciting only a half-hearted, token protest from the warlock. The weight of Arthur’s legs was more of a comfort than an irritant.

Much like the man himself. 

Though some days, Merlin decided, the irritation far outweighed the comfort of Arthur’s presence. 

Merlin leaned back on his hands and turned his face to where the afternoon sun was filtering warmly through the canopy above and allowed himself to relax, and when Arthur started quietly humming to himself, Merlin actually felt himself starting to drift off. 

“Merlin?” Arthur’s voice was inquisitive.

“Hmm?” It was all he could manage. 

“Why do you even have to make these trips? Couldn’t you just…I don’t know…call the plants to you?” 

The fact that Arthur knew about his magic was something Merlin was still getting used to. It was strange to have it out in the open after all the time spent hiding. Gaius had urged him not to let anyone know his secret, but the day Arthur had decided to end a rather heated argument between them by grabbing his face, gritting out a rough, “For once in your life, Merlin, shut up,” and kissed him, Merlin knew it was unfair to keep his secret any longer. 

Merlin wasn’t surprised when it seemed that Arthur was less upset that Merlin had been hiding his magic and more upset that he could no longer claim that he had single-handedly won some of his more impressive battles with rogues and other deadly creatures. He had kissed Merlin again and admitted that he understood why he’d kept his secret and promised that no harm would come to Merlin at his father’s hand. It was a solemn promise that had ended in their first night together as lovers. 

“I probably could,” Merlin mused before quirking a smile. “But then, I couldn’t forgive myself if I deprived you of spending this time together.” 

With a quick glance to his side, Merlin had an idea. With plucked up a few fistfuls of grass and wove them together quickly with his magic into a crown. 

“You know,” Merlin whispered darkly, grinning widely as he lowered the crown onto Arthur’s head, despite his protests. “My grimoire says that in the Old Religion, grass is said to be symbolic of male love and submission.” He was still grinning as he pecked Arthur’s cheek. “I can think of no one more male or submissive than you.”

Arthur tossed the book aside, the fiery glint in his eye turning wicked. “I think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to. If anyone is the submissive…” He trailed off, voice full of humor and implications. He took off the grass crown and shot forward to drag it through Merlin’s hair, leaving stray blades of green sticking out from his mess of black.

Before he even had a chance to finish laughing at the ridiculous sight, Merlin growled out a darkly playful, “I’ll show you submissive…” and threw himself forward in an attempt to knock the smug prince onto his back. 

It should have infuriated Merlin that Arthur didn’t stop laughing the entire time he was intercepting and countering Merlin’s failed attack. In an instant, Merlin was pressed with his back flat against the forest floor with the entire weight of a future king holding him there. 

Arthur ground his hips down hard against Merlin’s front, feeling the undeniably growing proof of Merlin’s enjoyment, before throwing his head back in a full laugh. “I’m sorry?” Arthur chuckled, leading, his hand cupped around his ear. “Who was the submissive one?"

Merlin let out a breathless laugh and turned his head to the side, steadfastly refusing to give in to the torment. It wasn’t easy when the torture continued by way of Arthur rolling his hips again, his hand still ridiculously cupping his ear. 

“You are, without a doubt, the most insufferable person alive,” Merlin laughed, his hand coming to tangle in his own hair out of frustration. When Arthur laughed, free and happy, and of course, completely infuriating, Merlin shook his head in disbelief. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

When Merlin’s grabbed a handful of mussed blond hair and pulled, Arthur’s only response was an arrogant, “That’s what I thought,” before letting himself be dragged in for a kiss.


End file.
